


"Yes, Daddy"

by orphan_account



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Animated Series
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Jervis, But everyone is of age, But now he's super uncomfortable, But only for Jonathan, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, Dork Squad, Eddie's Jonathan's wingman, Edward Nygma - Freeform, Edward just wanted to chill, Explicit Sexual Content, Gay Sex, Its kinky but not like overly kinky, Its set at a universty, Jervis Tetch - Freeform, Jervis is a bit of a hoe, Jervis is super submissive, Jervis just wants his professor to do him, Jonathan Crane - Freeform, M/M, Mad Hatter - Freeform, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Scarecrow - Freeform, Sex, Smut, So don't worry, Somewhat, Teacher-Student Relationship, The Riddler - Freeform, Top Jonathan, professor/student, well mostly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 14:57:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10026872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Prompt: I was half asleep in my psychology class the other day and called my professor daddy by accident, when I realized what I said I looked up and he just winked and walked away.Prompt from tumblr, and I couldn't resist writing this.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own any of the characters, just wish I did. Might do another chapter, might not. Anyways, enjoy... whatever this is.

Usually, Jervis’s nine a.m. psychology class on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays is the highlight of his week. Despite all of the weird looks he receives whenever he tells someone, Jervis Tetch actually is morning person, functioning at a much higher level between the hours of seven a.m. and one p.m. than at any other time of day. Plus, psychology is actually something he’s knowledgeable about and likes, as opposed to all of the other dry, boring judiciary classes his parents made him sign up for. The professor is also attractive, but more importantly engaging, and that only really serves to heighten Jervis’s appreciation for the class.

 

Jervis says usually his favorite, because really anything at nine a.m. ceases to be any amount of enjoyable when hung-over on cheap tequila, amazingly interesting psychology class included.

 

Low-key hungover and high-key tired to the point of falling asleep, Jervis is furiously trying to keep himself together until at least the end of class. He has an ethics and law seminar at one, but he figures no one will particularly care if he skips it to sleep off last night. For some reason, he seemed to have agreed to his friend Selina's thought that body shots were a good idea, and had woken up with rum sticky on his shirt, along with something that smelled strangely of butterscotch.

 

Shaking his head violently a few times, Jervis sneaks a glance up at the clock hanging above the door: 9:57. No way is he going to make it through two more hours. He groans silently and tunes back in to Dr.  
Crane’s lecture.

 

Dr. Crane is, in short, nothing Jervis had ever seen before. All of the teachers he had had throughout middle school, high school and into university were basically the same monotone, grumpy old people, just with different grumpy faces. On the complete opposite of the spectrum, Dr. Crane is enthusiastic and energetic, always moving his (rather nice) hands twice as fast as his mouth while speaking. The only thing Dr. Crane had in common with his previous teachers was that he was in fact older. But that only seemed to add to the attraction that Jervis felt for his professor.

 

“Well, somebody’s having fun today, isn’t that right Mr. Tetch?” Dr. Crane asks with a half smile. He’s known for his easy interactions with students, joking with and lightly poking fun at them. It’s really more endearing than anything else.

 

Something about Dr. Crane’s low voice, or maybe the fact that Jervis has been crushing on him for weeks, or just his alcohol-addled and sleep-deprived brain, has Jervis opening his mouth to respond before he really consciously thinks about it.

 

“Yes, Daddy,” Jervis mumbles, blinking hard and fluttering his eyelids open. The people within earshot – only about the entire room – explode into giggles. Jervis frowns, racing back through what had just happened. Had Dr. Crane said something? He didn’t think so.

 

Then what Jervis had said sinks in, and he goes redder than his notebook, ducking his head to hide his burning cheeks and pulling his sleeves over his hands in shame. He bites his lips and tries to laugh weakly along, risking one flicker of his eyes upwards. They lock with Dr. Crane’s, who just winks once at Jervis before calling for silence and continuing on with his lecture. Jervis sits there, stunned, as Dr. Crane continues his usual meandering path around the room as he speaks.

 

Did he seriously just call his professor ‘daddy’ by accident? And did said professor really just wink at him because of it?

 

The shot of adrenaline straight to his heart is more than enough for Jervis to stay focused for the rest of the class, keeping his eyes resolutely fixed on the laptop screen full of typed notes in front of him.

 

*

 

Jervis is out of his seat faster than a bullet as soon as Dr. Crane dismisses them, eager to put as much distance as possible between himself and his professor.

 

“Mr. Tetch?” Dr. Crane calls as Jervis has one foot out the door. Jervis grits his teeth, lowers his head, and turns back around.

 

“Good luck,” one of his classmates snickers, elbowing Jervis lightly as he pushes past him and out into the warm afternoon sun. Jervis considers flipping the guy off. He decides against it and settles on an eye roll instead.

 

“Yes, sir?” Jervis says, pulling his sleeves over his hands and clutching his backpack strap, the tattered black bag slung hastily over his right shoulder.

 

“Oh, so I’ve been promoted to ‘sir’ now?” Dr. Crane teases, fingers tapping on his laptop keys. Jervis flushes red again, biting his lip.

 

“Oh my, I’m sorry, that was inappropriate,” Dr. Crane corrects himself, standing up and tossing an apologetic look Jervis’s way. “Sorry, I sometimes forget that I’m supposed to be the mature one in the room.”

 

“It’s fine, sir,” Jervis says.

 

Dr. Crane smiles. “Still. It was inappropriate of me Jervis, and I am sorry. Now. What I wanted to talk to you about.” He turns his laptop screen around. Jervis leans in, reading a few lines and recognizing it as the paper he turned in the week prior.

 

“Is everything alright with it, sir?” he asks, suddenly worried. “I didn’t think there was anything wrong with it –“ “Jervis, relax,” Dr. Crane says with a smile. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with your paper. Quite the opposite, actually. This is post-graduate level work here Jervis, and the head of the department is thoroughly convinced you’re not the one writing what you turn in.”

 

Jervis feels his stomach fall into his tattered blue Converse. “But I am?” he says, panicked running a small hand through his swept over blonde hair. “I – I am, I write all of my stuff, I promise, I’d never use someone else’s –“

 

“Woah, Jervis, slow down. It’s okay. I for one don’t think you’re plagiarizing anyone’s anything. But we are still going to have to schedule a time where you can come in and talk to the head of department, and possibly write an essay under his supervision.”

 

“What, so he doesn’t think some short little blonde boy in a sweater vest can be smart?” Jervis snaps, crossing his arms over his chest. Jonathan sits back in his chair. “Okay, no need to get so frustrated,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “And do you really wear sweater vests?” Jervis undos a button on the jacket he was wearing showing his light blue vest underneath. “Cool,” Dr. Crane notices with a nod. Jervis tucks his hand into his jacket pocket.

 

“Is that all, sir?” he asks, readjusting his bag.

 

“Of course, Mr. Tetch. But let me just say, if you’re that out of it on a class day, I’d advise staying home and sleeping instead.”

 

Jervis’s ears burn with the force of his blush.

 

“Yes sir,” he mumbles, staring fixedly at the toes of his Converse. “I’ll go lighter on the drinking games on Sunday nights.”

 

Dr. Crane laughs, a proper laugh, one that makes Jervis want to drop all his embarrassment and join in.

 

“I’m just saying that a few of your other professors might not be as entertained, by your, ah, outbursts.” Jervis sort of hoped the floor will just swallow him whole.

 

“But in all seriousness,” Dr. Crane leans forward with a dangerous smile, adjusting his spectacles, clasping his hands together and resting his forearms on his desk. “I did not put you down for a daddy kink.”

 

Pink creeping up to his hairline now, Jervis maintains eye contact. “Oh? And why are you thinking about my kinks anyways?”

 

“I’m a psychology professor, Jervis  
,” Jonathan says with a wink. “I have to make my life at least a little bit more interesting. My grad school friend and I play a game sometimes, where we try and guess things about a person based on what we observe. It makes for quite a bit of fun if the stakes are high enough.”

 

“Really?” Jervis’s getting into it now, pulling up a chair and perching primly on the edge of it, his legs crossed, facing Dr. Crane. “And what are you playing for?”

 

Dr. Crane shrugs. “I have to buy him plane tickets to India if he wins, he has to buy and bring me coffee every day for a month if I win, but that’s not the point.” He leans in over the desk, blue-grey eyes flashing in the light in a way Jervis can only describe as predatory. He doesn’t have any explanation for why it makes his stomach twist like it does.

 

“See, Jervis, I am a scientist, and not knowing is the bane of my existence. I can sit here and think and theorize all I like, but what’s the point if I never get to know the truth?” He sucks his lower lip between his teeth, releasing it teasingly slow.

 

“And let me guess,” Jervis says, pleased with how unaffected he sounds. “You have somehow managed to work out through my speech patterns and the imprint of my left thumb that I find you attractive?”

 

“Oh no.” Dr. Crane smirks. “That much is as obvious to anyone with half a brain. Really Jervis, you must be more subtle when you stare at my ass.”

 

The realization slowly sinks in just how far into illegal waters Jervis really is. Nevertheless the small jolt, the thrill he’s getting from doing something so dangerous, so potentially explosive, drives him deeper.

 

“Oh, no shame anymore, professor?” Jervis asks primly, shifting his weight onto one foot. He grins internally at how Dr. Crane's eyes follow the sway of his hips.

 

“Darling, I never had any to begin with,” Dr. Crane hums, low and rough and fucking filthy. Jervis shivers, sucking in a sharp breath. Dr. Crane smirks.

 

“Well, it was lovely meeting with you sir,” Jervis giggles, turning on his heel and flashing a devastating smile back over his shoulder. Dr. Crane stands up behind his desk, confused. “But I really must be going to my next classes. Wouldn’t want to be marked down, now would I?” Jonathan’s lips curl upwards at Jervis’s flirtatious tone, and he leans his hands on his desk as Jervis whirls out of the room without another word. Jonathan slumps back down in his seat, toying with his phone. He types in his passcode, flicking mindlessly through his contacts before settling on one. He fires off a quick text, stands up, slides his phone on his pocket, and begins to gather his things.

 

Hey, Ed, you free tonight? I need help, advice, and liquor. Lots of liquor

 

*

 

“You fucking imbecile,” Ed snorts, shaking his head once Jonathan had finished with his story. Jonathan grimaces around a shot, a shrug his only reply.

 

“Yeah, I know, okay? I dug myself into a nasty hole and now I have absolutely no idea how to get myself out of it,” he groans, playing with the tiny glass in his fingers.

 

“But seriously, he called you ‘daddy’ in the middle of class?” Ed asks with a scandalized expression, leaning forward. Jonathan nods, humming too quiet to be heard over the noise of other people in the bar. “Yep. He was half asleep so I made a crack about him having fun, he just mumbled ‘yes daddy’ and the class exploded.”

 

“As I would assume it would,” Ed snorts into his glass. Jonathan smiles vacantly and turns his head, his empty gaze landing on the ass of a cute boy leaning against the bar. The boy is turned away from Jonathan, chatting with some people Jonathan presumes to be his friends. Jonathan’s gaze trips down the figure, taking in the boy’s clean combed over blond hair, slim waist and wide hips, jeans almost black in the low light of the bar leading into worn-out blue shoes Jonathan swears he recognizes…

 

“Ed…” Jonathan groans, flopping his face into the crook of his arm, torso flush against the wood table. “The kid I was telling you about? Jervis? He’s right over there.” He juts his head in Jervis’s direction, hissing when Ed’s eyes widen and his entire body swings in the direction Jonathan indicates. “Don’t make it obvious!” Jonathan sputters, keeping his face hidden in his elbow. “Don’t draw his attention!”

 

But, as these things usually go, it’s too late. Jervis notices Ed’s stare, completely confused as to why this stranger is looking at him with an expression of… is that excitement? Jervis really doesn’t know. He glances over the stranger’s shoulder, noticing Dr. Crane peeking sheepishly out from behind his hair and appearing to scold the staring man. Jervis mumbles a hasty excuse to his friends, grabbing his drink and moving through the crowd to Dr. Crane’s table.

 

“Ed he is coming over he’s coming over here oh my god Ed why does god hate me?” Jonathan groans and shoves his face into his hands pushing his spectacles onto his forehead

 

“Don’t worry Jonathan, I don’t,” Ed says with a playful smile, glancing up to Jervis. “Hey sweetheart,” Ed says to Jervis with a wink, scooting over in the booth and patting the space next to him. Jervis flushes bright pink, giggling shyly and sliding in to sit next to Ed.

 

“Eddie, don’t flirt with my students,” Jonathan warns, tipping an easy smile in Jervis’s direction. “Hello Jervis.”

 

“Oh, so your friend here can’t flirt with your students but you can?” Jervis asks with a quizzically raised eyebrow and a saucy smile, settling into his seat with his chin resting on his hand, elbow propped on the table.

 

Jonathan is somewhat taken aback by Jervis’s cheeky remark, sitting straighter and settling back, taking up more space. He’s at a loss for words.

 

Ed looks amazed, swinging glances back and forth between Jonathan and Jervis as if they’re in a tennis match, duce in the final set. “Uh-oh. Not again," he mumbles into his drink before taking a sip

 

“I’m sorry, Jervis, for my behavior earlier.” Jonathan finally manages to find his voice, and he almost winces with how formal and removed he sounds. “I crossed so many lines, and I behaved inappropriately. I fully understand if you would like to report me to the dean of students, or if you would feel more comfortable dropping or switching out of my class.” He fixes his gaze at the center of the table, resolutely avoiding Jervis’s eye contact.

 

“And what if I don’t want to do either of those things, hmm?” Jervis asks, tracing a mindless pattern with the drops of condensation on the tabletop. Both of those things are a step back from what he really wants, which is namely a chance to possibly kiss his stupidly attractive psychology professor. He sits back with a smirk, tapping a painted fingernail against the glass he’s holding. “Where did all of this sudden humility come from, daddy?”

 

Jonathan snaps at the last word, sitting straight with his shoulders broad and allowing himself to fall into his dominant headspace. Ed instantly recognizes the look and shrinks back into the corner, trying his best to blend into the dark paneling. Half of him feels like he should leave and half of him wants to film it, but he can’t do either so he settles for watching.

 

“You’re playing a very dangerous game here, Jervis,” Jonathan warns, his voice half an octave deeper and twice as gravelly as it usually is. Ed watches, fascinated, to the effect it seems to have on Jervis: His shoulders fall slightly; his hands drop from the table and find themselves clasped loosely behind his back; his legs spread a subconscious few inches. Jonathan snickers.

 

“Do you know what you’re doing, Jervis?” Jonathan asks, eyeing Jervis. “Do you know what you’re asking for?”

 

“Yes,” Jervis mumbles, voice high and breathy. Jonathan stands up and his hand flashes forward, fingers catching Jervis’s jaw to force him to hold Jonathan’s gaze.

 

“What do you say?” Jonathan asks. The words would have been light and teasing if not for the way he says them, low and rough and fucking dangerous. “Yes sir,” Jervis all but moans, and Ed is seriously considering making some noise about the two of them getting a room, or at least letting him leave, if not for the way Jonathan looks like he’s itching to murder someone. Ed swallows and stays put.

 

A concerned waitress is tossing unsure glances towards Jonathan and Jervis as she serves drinks to the people seated at the table next to theirs. Ed catches her eye and shakes his head, signaling that they’re all right. She nods slowly, but still keeps a wary eye on their table as she helps customers at the counter.

 

“Have you had anything to drink tonight?” Jonathan asks Jervis, oblivious to everything else. Jervis swallows and does his best to shake his head, but Jonathan’s hold on his jaw renders that rather impossible. “No, sir,” he answers instead. “Nothing but soda.”

 

Jonathan narrows his eyes, noticing with a slight sense of twisted satisfaction the shivers that it sends through Jervis, picking up the boy’s glass and sipping.

 

“You’re telling the truth,” Jonathan notes, releasing his hold on Jervis and sitting back down. “Yes, I do that occasionally,” Jervis snorts with an eye roll, and Jonathan’s lips curl back on a snarl. “I would punish you, but we’re in public.”

 

Jonathan doesn’t hear the small sound Jervis ekes out but Ed does, and it does nothing but heighten his growing discomfort. It’s one thing to be your best friend’s wingman, or hear stories about their hookups. It’s quite another to actually be right there while said best friend and one of his students of all things are basically dirty-talking each other across the table.

 

A small noise from Ed, just the clearing of his throat really, snaps Jervis and Jonathan out of their intense staring-bordering-on-eye-fucking contest. Jonathan’s eyes flicker to Ed’s face while Jervis’s avert downwards, focusing on the half-full glass in front of him.

 

“Yeah,” Jonathan agrees with Ed’s wordless question, his voice a little bit lower, a little bit rougher than usual. Jervis desperately tries to squash the pride swelling in his chest because of it.

 

“Later,” Jonathan mutters to Ed, looking back down at Jervis. “Come on,” he all but orders, striding confidently towards the door without even needed to glance back to know Jervis is trailing him like an excited puppy.

 

Ed breathes out, sinking low against the back of the booth, toying with the straw in his glass. He deliberates for a few moments before standing up, tipping a kind smile to the worried waitress, and sidling up to the bar to order another drink. No way in hell does he want to accidentally walk into Jervis and Jonathan when he leaves.

 

*

 

Jonathan growls, crowding Jervis up against the alley wall and humming low at the gasp Jervis lets out when his back hits cool bricks. Jonathan’s hands bracketing his head, Jervis is forced to look Jonathan – his psychology professor, his brain reminds him feverishly – straight in the eye. Jonathan’s blue eyes are black with arousal, and everywhere his skin is touching Jervis burns white-hot. Jervis squirms, pinned under Jonathan’s weight and gaze, feeling positively naked. He bites his lip, his heart racing and his breathing heavy.

 

Jonathan crowds in even closer if that’s at all possible, his body pressed against Jervis’s. His labored breathing tickles the spot right under Jervis’s left ear as he leans down so he can get better access to the shorter male’s body, and Jervis’s eyes flutter shut as he tilts his head to allow better access.

 

“You want me,” Jonathan notices. If this at all moves him, his voice doesn’t let on. Jervis shivers, nodding fervently.

 

“Yes daddy, yes sir, please,” he gasps, clenching his hands into fists at his sides. The desire to touch, to grab and grip and hold itches beneath his fingertips. He presses them, palms flat, against the brick wall to be safe. Jonathan’s nose brushes Jervis’s jaw and he shudders, biting his lips on a groan. Jonathan growls low in his throat, a rumbling sound that sends Jervis gasping.

 

“Oh no, there will be none of that.” Jonathan’s heart speeds up as he trails his lips against Jervis’s neck, settling on a spot and sucking the skin between his teeth.

 

Jervis keens when Jonathan bites down, arching his back and thrashing his head. Jonathan's hands wrap around the sides of Jervis’s hips, pressing them back into the wall.

 

“Please,” Jervis mewls, his hands flashing out and digging into Jonathan’s belt loops, trying to pull Jonathan’s hips into his own. “Fuck. Please, daddy, please. I need –”

 

“Shhh…” Jonathan bites and sucks his way up Jervis’s jaw, trailing his tongue across all of the deep purple bruises forming on pale skin. Jervis whimpers when Jonathan bites down on one of the bruises he made, the dull, pulsing pain sending white-hot spikes of pleasure through Jervis.

 

“Do you want this, Jervis?” Jonathan murmurs right behind Jervis’s ear, hot breath ghosting over his neck. “Want me to take you home, spread you out all pretty and fuck you so hard you can’t remember your name?” Jervis could only moan in response, all logical thought having been completely thrown out the window. He just needs Dr. Crane to be touching him right about now. Fuck, even that’s too late. Last week preferably.

 

“Hey. Hey. Jervis. Look at me.” Jervis sluggishly flickers his hooded eyes up to meet Dr. Crane’s face, genuine concern hidden behind shiny lips and blown pupils. “Are you okay? Is this you consenting, or your headspace talking.”

 

Jervis fights to swallow through his dry throat, his head involuntarily lolling back on his shoulders. “Hey.” Dr. Crane catches Jervis’s head, one hand supporting it, tangled in blonde curls, and the other cupping Jervis’s cheek roughly.

 

“Yes. This is me, Jervis Lewis Tetch, saying that I would love it if you, Dr. Crane, my psychology professor, would take me home and wreck my ass,” Jervis hums, glancing up at his professor from under his eyelashes. He sucks Dr. Crane’s thumb into his mouth seductively, and any doubts Jonathan has are quite easily dispelled.

 

“It’s Jonathan,” Dr. Crane says, using the thumb in Jervis’s moth to drag his jaw down. “My name, it’s Jonathan.” He leans in, substituting his tongue for his thumb and licking his way into Jervis’s mouth. Jervis hums, going slack and letting Dr. Crane – Jonathan – do whatever he likes. Jonathan pulls back, kissing Jervis almost chastely and Jervis sighs, his eyes slipping shut and his fingers clutching onto the front of Jonathan’s shirt.

 

Jonathan pulls back, his eyes opening and staring down at the gorgeous boy he has, hard and needy, pinned against a wall.

 

“But I’m never going to stop you from calling me daddy,” Jonathan says with a smirk flashing down to leave one last bite mark on Jervis’s collarbone. Jervis’s eyes fly open and he groans, reminded of just how desperate he is. But Jonathan steps back before Jervis can do anything about it, eyeing Jervis over and fixing his own hair.

 

“Come on,” he says, turning around and walking away before Jervis has a chance to think. “Didn’t you want me to take you home?”

 

*

 

The cab ride to Jonathan's apartment was, in short, hell. Jonathan was so close. Jervis could feel the heat radiating off of him, feel the slide of their thighs together whenever one of them moved or shifted, smell the scent of paper and sweat and Jonathan filling the car, and it was driving him mad. He harrumphed, settling for sitting on his hands and leaning his forehead against the cool window of the cab, biting his lip and trying to will his hard-on away. Jonathan's hand snaked out, resting innocently on Jervis’s knee and began rubbing circles on his thigh. Jervis’s legs jumped, then spread, and he cursed Jonathan to high heavens and fixed him with a glare that could have melted steel. Jonathan just smiled back, his hand still moving when he looked back out the window.

 

*

 

“Come on,” Jervis whines as soon as they exit the car, his hands touching Jonathan everywhere he can. “Need you daddy, please.”

 

Jonathan hums in vague assent, ignoring Jervis as he unlocks the door, steps inside, and removes his shoes. Jervis hovers awkwardly in front of the door, staring holes into Jonathan’s head as he takes what seems to be years to untie his loafers and put them away. Jonathan stands up, his back to Jervis, and rolls his shoulders, popping his neck and sighing before languidly spinning back around.

 

“Strip.”

 

Jervis blinks, confused. “Pardon me?”

 

“This is the only time I’ll repeat myself, Jervis. Strip.”

 

Jervis rests his hands unsurely on his belt buckle, glancing around as if he expects a roommate or film crew to pop out from behind the sofa. Jonathan leans against the wall, arms folded. Watching.

 

Jervis undoes his belt slowly, letting it fall from his fingers with a decisive thud onto the carpeted floor. He kneels down to untie his shoes, stepping out of them and peeling off his socks, stuffing them into his sneakers. He spares a glance up at Jonathan, meeting cool, blue eyes, and clears his throat, toying with the hem of his shirt for a few moments before finally pulling the clothing up and over his head. Jervis doesn’t miss the flash of interest across Jonathan’s deliberately impassive face.

 

His submissive tendencies kicking in, Jervis folds his shirt neatly, placing it on top of his shoes. He unbuttons, unzips, and discards his trousers without another moment of consideration, folding those as well and placing them with the rest of his clothing.

 

With a nod from Jonathan Jervis sheds his pants, leaving the blue boxers on top of his jeans.

 

“Good boy,” Jonathan says softly, pushing up off the wall and stepping over to Jervis. The words themselves are enough to bring Jervis’s half-hard cock to attention again, and he falls to his knees out of instinct.

 

“Such a pretty, pretty boy,” Jonathan hums, stepping closer and cupping Jervis’s cheek. Jervis’s eyes flutter closed and he leans into Jonathan’s touch.

 

“Thank you daddy,” he whispers, leaning forward so he can nuzzle into Jonathan’s crotch. Jonathan’s hands slide into blonde hair, the tips beginning to curl from sweat, and steps closer so he’s directly in front of Jervis’s face.

 

Jervis is blinking up at Jonathan with huge, innocent blue eyes, and Jonathan would be lying if he says he doesn’t enjoy it.

 

“Come on,” Jonathan says, gripping Jervis’s hair tighter.

 

Something dangerous, something hungry, something carnal twinkles behind Jervis’s eyes, as he opens his mouth and skillfully undoes the button and zipper of Jonathan’s jeans with only his teeth. (his huge ass teeth lol)

 

“Good with your mouth, huh?” Jonathan asks rhetorically as Jervis shuffles his jeans and boxers midway down his thighs. “Why don’t you put it to better use?”

 

Jervis nods eagerly at the suggestion, mouth already watering at the scent of Jonathan – sweet and musky and male, definitely one of Jervis’s favorite scents – and the sight of his cock, thick and hard and oh god is it huge.

 

Jervis licks his way down Jonathan’s length, placing little nips and kisses on his hips, balls and thighs. Jonathan sighs contentedly, winding Jervis’s hair tighter around his fingers and smirking at the hitched breath that escapes Jervis’s lips.

 

Jonathan is hard, raging, and impatient, but he lets Jervis’s have his fun for a few moments longer. The muted pleasure is becoming too much however, and he tugs on Jervis’s hair in a silent order to get things going.

 

Jervis blushes and nods, bringing his hand up to wrap around the base of Jonathan’s cock to steady it as he attaches his lips to the tip, sucking hard and moaning at the sweet-yet-bitter flavor that explodes over his tongue.

 

“Put your hand down, don’t’ be lazy,” Jonathan scolds, punctuating his command with another sharp tug. Jervis whimpers and tries to nod, but Jonathan’s hold on his hair effectively restrains him.

 

“Yes daddy, I understand.”

 

“Good boy.” Jonathan loosens his grip by a fraction of an inch as Jervis clasps his hands loosely behind his back, fingers flexing as he sinks as far down as he can, choking and spluttering.

 

Jervis’s eyes water and he can barely breathe, but he forces himself to stay down, his throat constricting as he swallows around Jonathan.

 

Jonathan groans appreciatively, dragging Jervis further down until the smaller male's nose is nestled in thick curls, Jonathan finally allowing himself to let out a husky moan of approval.

 

The sound of Jonathan’s moan, deep and gravelly sends a white-hot spear of arousal straight to Jervis’s groin, his cock twitching painfully.

 

“Fuck you’re good,” Jonathan growls, dragging Jervis back up his length. Jervis blushes, placing one last sloppy, wet kiss to Jonathan’s tip before his sits back on his heels.

 

“Come on,” Jonathan instructs. Jervis scrambles to his feet, cock bobbing.

 

He follows Jonathan to his bedroom, letting out a small squeak as Jonathan shoves him up against the closed door and kisses him, so hard Jervis is sure his lips will be bruised by morning.

 

“Bed. All fours, legs spread,” Jonathan pants into the sweat-slicked skin of Jervis’s neck, dragging blunt nails down Jervis’s sides. Jervis moans and nods, scrambling to get himself into position.

 

“Such a good boy,” Jonathan muses, climbing onto the bed behind Jervis. He positions himself between Jervis’s spread thighs, running his hands across Jervis’s hips.

 

“Please daddy,” Jervis begs, pushing his ass back into Jonathan’s hands. “Please what, baby?” Jonathan asks with a simpering smile. Jervis whimpers.

 

“Please fuck me, daddy, split me open with your cock daddy, please. Need you inside of me, now.”

 

Jonathan tuts disapprovingly, smacking his palm onto Jervis’s backside. Jervis gasps and jolts, falling to his forearms as a steady stream of “please” and “daddy” trails from his lips.

 

“Well, since you’re asking so nicely,” Jonathan amends, smoothing his hands over this stinging red color Jervis’s ass was turning. He slaps it once more before standing up, moving over to grab his supplies.

 

“No no no,” Jervis pleads when Jonathan moves from behind him. “No daddy please come back, please, I need –“ “Shhh,” Jonathan whispers, pressing sloppy, open-mouthed kisses to any piece of skin he could reach.

 

Jervis is a whimpering mess while Jonathan is stretching him, so sensitive responsive to each touch. Jonathan imagines him tied up, muscles straining against rope, saliva and half-formed moans dripping from behind a ball gag. Later, he promises himself, sliding his fingers from Jervis’s hole. He decidedly doesn’t think about the implications of him wanting there to possibly be a ‘later’.

 

“Daddy please,” Jervis says again, and Jonathan finally lets himself give in to what they both desperately crave.

 

Jervis all but screams as Jonathan enters him, writhing and shaking, sweat and precum dripping onto the sheets beneath him.

 

“Fuuuck,” Jonathan hisses, as he sheathes himself in warmth, his hips pressed flush to Jervis. “Fuck me daddy, please,” Jervis groans when Jonathan doesn’t move for a moment, taking matters into his own hands and beginning to fuck himself on Jonathan, bouncing back and forth on his cock.

 

Jonathan growls, grabbing both of Jervis’s wrists in one hand, his other hand pressing Jervis’s face into the bed. Jervis’s moans are constant as Jonathan begins to move, as fast and hard as he can to start.

 

“Yes!” Jervis shouts, arching his back when Jonathan hits his prostate, eyes squeezed shut and mouth slack with ecstasy. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants as he crushes his face back into the sheets, thighs shaking from pleasure. He can feel it, the rising tension in his abdomen, signaling his oncoming orgasm.

 

“Daddy, please, I’m gonna –“ “Come untouched,” Jonathan finishes for him, pistoning his hips even harder. Jervis’s eyes roll back in his head and his mouth hangs slack, high, staccato ‘ah’s ejected from his parted lips every time Jonathan pushes in.

 

Jervis comes moments after that, with a crescendo of screams and pleas and ‘daddy’. Jonathan gasps, fucking into Jervis one last time before his own high overtakes him, leaning down to sink his teeth into the juncture of Jervis’s neck and shoulder as he comes inside of him.

 

Jonathan winces as he pulls out, the drag too much for his over-sensitive cock. Jervis rolls over, eyes glassy and lips open, shiny and spit-slicked. Jonathan lurches forward on instinct, taking Jervis’s wet cock into his hand and thumbing over the head. He watches, fascinated, as Jervis’s fucked-out grin twists into a grimace, his head thrashing and knees jerking as he tries to pull away from the almost painful twinges Jonathan’s hands are giving him. Jonathan drops it after a few moments more, dragging his clean hand through his sweaty auburn hair.

 

“Hey. Jervis,” he says gently, cupping Jervis’s cheek. Jervis blinks languidly up at him, purring his satisfaction when Jonathan’s hand pushes his sticky hair back off his face. “Shower, yeah?” Jonathan asks, his question met with a hesitant nod from Jervis.

 

The shower is warm and cuddly, with comfortable touches and soft smiles. Jonathan rubs his fingers over the purple marks on Jervis’s neck, shiny under the water. Jervis mewls and turns his head, and Jonathan dips down to kiss him all over gently, his fingers heavy and reassuring on Jervis’s hips.

 

“Jervis?” Jonathan asks once they’re both clean and dried, each dressed in a pair of Jonathan’s sweatpants and a t-shirt, laying together on Jonathan’s bed. “I don’t want this to be a one-time thing.”

 

“Okay,” Jervis says with a yawn, pressing a sleepy kiss to Jonathan’s nose. “It won’t be.” Jonathan blinks. “It’s that simple for you?”

 

“Yeah.” Jervis snuggles into Jonathan’s side, his face tucked into Jonathan’s chest. “It isn’t for you?”

 

“No,” Jonathan says softly, staring down at the mess of blonde curls in his arms. “I mean yes, yes it is.”

 

“Okay,” Jervis hums, his eyes sliding shut, his eyelashes ticking Jonathan’s collarbones. “I’ll see you in the morning. Talk then?”

 

“Yeah,” Jonathan said. “Yeah of course.”

 

“Good.”

 

*

 

“Well, someone had fun last night,” Dr. Crane says with a laugh from his perch on top of his own desk, golf-clapping as Jervis slides into a seat with a vaguely sheepish expression.

 

“You know it,” he shoots back with a wink. Dr. Crane throws his head back and laughs, long and loud.

 

“Anyways,” Dr. Crane says, clapping his hands and hopping off of his desk. He types something quickly into his laptop and turns to face the class with a smile.

 

“Now, we will pick up where we last off yesterday with…” Jervis’s phone buzzes in his pocket.

 

From: Jonathan Crane

While I appreciate the sign of your ownership, you might want to wear a scarf for the rest of the week. See you tonight. Xoxo (you should have told me if I was being so rough!!!!)

 

Jervis types out a quick message with a smirk, shoving his phone back into his pocket and tuning back into what Dr. Crane is saying.

 

From: Jervis Tetch

I have a wireless vibrator up my ass and the remote in my pocket. Xxx see you tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> Lmao Crane types like an middle aged Facebook mom


End file.
